


first word

by largoindminor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dean teaching sammy his first word</p>
            </blockquote>





	first word

**Author's Note:**

> well i had a lot of feels about the whole "de" thing yesterday so

Dean remembers it like it was yesterday, even though it was over thirty years ago. Sam teased him about it once, said it was probably all a product of Dean’s imagination. That it wasn’t a memory at all, but a blend of half memories and stories he’s heard and dreams he’s had, so sculpted and idealized that it’s basically just a realistic sounding fiction. Secretly, though, beneath the teases, Sam knows that it’s true.

~

Sam’s first birthday wasn’t much of a celebration. They lived in temporary housing, a furnished short term lease that smelled of stale cigarette smoke and too many cats. There was a sadness that permeated everything in their lives, even though both boys were too young to fully understand it. Sunny spring days were just dreary days dressed in yellow; ice cream was just cold milk and it didn’t even fill you up long enough to count as food; holidays were just another colorless day in an unending string of black and white. Dean’s fifth birthday came and went completely forgotten by all of them, but Sam’s was at least marked by a small lopsided day old cake and match in place of a candle. Sam did get one gift, though, from the kindly upstairs neighbor, who took a second hand set of wooden letters and wrapped them up so pretty even Dean got excited.

There was a full alphabet, plus numbers, carved from hardwood and painted in fading primary colors. Sam had been babbling for months but hadn’t said any  _real_  words yet, and Dean in all his wisdom decided Sam needed to learn about the alphabet in order to start communicating better.

“A, Sammy, A like for applesauce. You like applesauce.” Sam took the letter from Dean’s hand and chewed the top as Dean continued.

“B. Like, uh, ball. When you’re bigger we can play ball!” Dean said, and pointed to the plastic ball in the corner of the room.

“Oooh C! C like…” Dean scrunched up his face in an exaggeration of the daddy’s “thinky face” and continued, “caterpillar! The hungry one from my book!” Dean made a mental note to read about it to Sam, if he ever found the book again.

“Here’s a good one. D- D like dad. Can you say  _dad_? Say it for him when he gets back home, Sammy, and maybe it’ll make him happy! Maybe he’ll smile! Can you say daaaaaad?”

Sam stopped chewing on the letter A and looked intently at Dean, clearly understanding on some level that his brother had made an important request. “De?”

“Yes! Yeah Sammy, the letter D. Dad starts with D. Can you say dad?” Dean thought of how proud his father would be of him if he could teach Sammy this, of how he’d pick him up and spin him and hug him tight just like he used to. “Come on Sammy, please? Say dad for me?”

Sam flashed his four toothed smile and drool dribbled down his chubby chin and onto the carpet. “Deeeee!” he squealed, clapping, “Dee, Dee, Dee.”

~

“I didn’t realize that you were saying my name, you know. I didn’t get that when you started talking you wouldn’t just start saying all the words the rest of us said. Dad told me, when he got home. I told him I was trying to get you to say dad as your first word, and he just… he just smiled real big and said _Dean, he’s saying Dean, that’s his first word._ And I was afraid he’d be mad at me, cause you didn’t say dad, but he wasn’t. He hugged me and kissed you right on your slimy face and called you a genius.”

Sam smiles, he’s heard this before, at least a dozen or so times. Once as a kid when he’d gotten pretty banged up on a hunt and Dean sat by his bed as he recovered. Three times during the year before Dean went to hell, when Dean would drink too much to keep the nostalgia at bay. Once, he thinks, in a safe room at Bobby’s. A few times like this, no special occasion other than a few cold beers and an exceptionally clear night sky, the two of them sprawled over the hood of the car with fingers loosely entwined. These were Sam’s favorite, sentiment brought on not by alcohol or fear but born of the quiet intimacy between them.

“But then you started talking more. It was all  _’_ _ammy_  instead of  _Sammy_ , _dina_ _’_ _ore_  instead of  _dinosaur_ ,  _ooze_  instead of  _shoes_. I felt like I was learning your language instead of the other way around. And we tried, man,” he takes a second to laugh at the memory, “tried so hard to get you to say Dean. Me and dad, we’d say  _Deeeaaaannnnnn_ ,  _nnnnnnn, Deannnnn_  but you’d just kinda shake your chubby little fist at us like we were the wrong ones. _Deeeeeeee_. So that was my name for a good three years. You named me I guess. I was- I was kinda sad when you started saying it right,” the admission is new, “Stupid huh?”

“No, Dean, not stupid.” Sam’s gaze no longer focused on the stars above, he turns to face his brother.

“Yeah, well, kid stuff, right,  _‘ammy_?”

“Right,” Sam tightens the grip on Dean’s hand and pulls him in a little closer, just enough to press his lips right above Dean’s brow, “right De.”


End file.
